


Blood Warrior

by Lily_Collins



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Old Norse, Other, Valhalla, Valkyrie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Collins/pseuds/Lily_Collins





	Blood Warrior

She ran through the misty forest, running from him, the one she loved...the one she wanted nothing more than to be with. Feeling such anguish over having to end things with him; only for the greater good of him, and mankind. There could never be anything between them as they were two beings from a different spectrum. She was cursed, damned to hell for being born into darkness. It had consumed her life, consumed her. She'd always be doomed to be alone...petrified of never experiencing love for herself as she watched her sisters do many a time. But she was the dark one, tis wasn't allowed. Her breath became shallow and fast as her speed picked up.  
Falling to the ground with a thud, she wept into the earth. Clenching fists as dirt nudged itself under her nails. Her father had forbid her to ever love a man, a measly excuse for a human he claimed. Being from a family of Gods was not the easiest upbringing. She was the dark one, she found the meanest, baddest of them all; procuring the best soldiers for battle in Valhalla. Her father Odin, trained such warriors for battle. It was the ultimate battle of Good VS Evil. If the wrong side tipped in favor, the world would end in Ragnarok. 

She made a fatal mistake that day. His chiseled jaw, his bulging biceps, short chestnut hair and eyes to match. His frame was average and his hands were skilled. He was perfect. The aura he possessed made him special. She could sense it. Protruding from his chest, a sword. He held out a hand to her as she stared in awe at him. Slowly reaching down as their hands touched......that's when it all changed.

 

Let's go back to the beginning.... 

 

Odin was a god with a plan. He was building an army of warriors to train and prepare for the events of Ragnarök. Only those deemed worthy were gifted entrance into the lands of Valhalla. It was a place of peace and tranquility...but also a place of fierce bloodshed and power. Odin had many daughters, numbers up to sixteen or more. All had long flowing blonde locks and blue eyes. All except one- Kyriana, had long black hair that cascaded down her back in straight strands. Her eyes, the color of the ferns on the land of Valhalla. Depending on how the light reacted to them, they would change from light and dark with rings of red around the center. Her skin was a paler white than her sisters. She was the outcast, the unique one her father kept a close eye on. Kyriana held more powers and more abilities that Odin knew he could use to his advantage. Her mother was a female shaman with the ability to control elements and human. Odin was fond of human women; he liked to feel powerful. 

They were all his Valkyrie Goddesses, Choosers of the Slain. When a new battle began, they scoured the lands for warriors who'd perished in battle. By the look of his aura, the Battle Maidens could tell if they had potential needed. Being brought to the land of Valhalla was a gift - one to be cherished. When not in training for Ragnarök, they spent their days being showered with gifts, food, and wines of the Gods. A warrior was reborn into the life once they entered the lands of Valhalla. Maidens of the land cared for their every wound and need. One rule of the Valkyrie was Pureness...once broken, the wrath of Odin would make one wish they'd met death. He prized his daughters on being the purest of the pure. This rule, however, only seemed to be strictly enforced on one of his Goddess daughters. The half breed, demi-goddess, Kyriana. 

Kyriana struggled with the fact that she was known as the demi-goddess of death. Her presence meant death, she was the angel of death. While her sisters seemed to find their warriors who had already perished, Kyriana seemed to arrive as they were taking their last breath. Her sisters enjoyed their lifestyle, knowing it was for the better of mankind. Kyriana was naive. Never experiencing love, never allowed to. She watched as maidens of the land were often wooed by a strong warrior. Damned forever, struggling with her inner demons to rebel against her father. 

She spent her free time alone, hidden in the darkened forest. Inner self-doubt and hatred for what she couldn't control made her horrible company. Her feet dangling into the brook as she sat in thought. The horns of war sounded as she heard her horse gallop behind her. "I know, Gyllir...I heard it, too,” she said as she turned and mounted the winged horse's back. "Let's go!" She exclaimed, as her horse began to sore into the sky heading for the battlefield on Midgard. Little did she know, today her life would change forever.

As Gyllir flew through the clouds and into another dimension of their worlds, entering a portal only accessible by someone with God powers, she sighed a heavy sigh. It was the same mundane routine of procuring the best warriors who were worthy of Valhalla. A willing determination or strength that made one man stand out above the rest. Kyriana and Gyllir landed on a nearby cliffside. She dismounted him and rubbed his mane, nuzzling his neck as he snorted and shook his head. He was a pegasus gifted to her from Odin when she was five and ever since then, he was her best friend and companion. "Stay here." She whispered, cloaking him and herself before using her powers to transport herself to the battle taking place in a nearby field. The open field was surrounded by trees and large boulders. Men were using large swords and swiping them with great ease as their opponents dodged their strikes. A few were not so lucky as their flesh was ripped open and crimson liquid sprayed the victor. A rebel yell of triumph came from the brute man as he spun around to take out another enemy. He wielded his sword like it was a stick, but gracefully as well. Kyriana watched him fight, seeing his darkened aura that told him he enjoyed the act of taking a life and craved more blood. Men like that she left for Freyja's army of bloodthirsty devils. She looked for honorable men, much to her sisters' dismay. They never cared about auras, only muscle, and strong will. Pleasing Odin was their utmost duty and nothing pleased Odin like a warrior who could maim and kill for sport. That made the best entertainment. 

Something caught her eye to the left as she watched a man with a simple bow and arrow and how he shot every target with quickness, stealth, and precision. He was talented in archery as each of the arrows he shot landed in an eye or heart. Men dropped to their knees as he defeated them, but he never cheered or celebrated. She could sense his angst and anger. He was there for revenge. Watching the colors of his aura, she was intrigued and very much drawn to him. The brute with the sword spun around as he noticed some of his men dropping to their death and met the eyes of the man with the bow. As many other men left standing continued to fight their own battles, she watched on as they came head to head. The brute swung his sword as he yelled loudly and ran forward. The archer easily moved at the last minute and spun, crouching low enough to brace himself. He was a swift fighter, clever, too. The brute growled angrily and tightened his grip on his sword. He rushed forward again and the archer stayed in his crouched position. As the brute grew closer, Kyriana watched as the archer quickly jabbed an arrow into his shoulder, barely missing important arteries and his neck. The brute yelled out in pain but it only made him angrier and stronger as he turned to face the archer who had an arrow awaiting his fire. The brute yanked the arrow free from his shoulder as if it were a mere splinter in his finger, ignoring the blood seeping from the wound. When the archer fired, the brute blocked his arrow with the forearm shield and continued forward. He quickly fired more arrows but the brute was able to block or avoid them. Archery was much better from farther distances with an unsuspecting victim, as she was certain this man was learning. 

As the brute drew near the archer, she wanted to protect him but it was against the rules and forbidden to engage in human affairs. Instead, all she could do was watch. Finally, the brute was close enough to the archer and towered him by at least three feet. The brute grabbed him by the tunic shirt and lifted him up off of the ground. He spoke in a rough voice, "Ye die noo." His meaty fist slammed into the nose of the archer, blood quickly gushing out. Throwing him to the ground, the brute smirked with satisfaction.

"Ye killed 'er, ye dobber!" The archer yelled out, his voice full of pain. She could tell it wasn't because of the physical pain but an emotional pain. This battle on the fields of Aberdeen, on the coast of Scotland, had been one bubbling for years between two fighting clans. As she used her powers to reach out and read the archer's memories, she saw it all play out. A woman, long blonde hair that cascaded far down her back as she smiled brightly at the archer. It was a spring day when the rival army came upon them and taunted them both, knowing him as a soldier from the opposing side. The brute man smirked as he used his sword to press against the woman's throat, threatening her life unless she came willingly. She spat in his face and he sliced her throat open with ease, letting her fall to the Earth without a care. The archer's painful bellow echoed in her mind as she came back to the present and watched the scene unfold. 

The archer used the last of his energy and the arrow he held tightly in his palm to stab straight through the man's eye. He released the archer and Kyriana's brows went up in shock. The brute yelled out in pain but took his sword and jabbed it up and into the ribs of the archer, piercing his heart instantly. His face fell and his body slumped against the sword, the light in his eyes slowly fading. Although she could not be seen nor heard, the archer stared straight at her as if he were seeing her. She wanted to go to him and save him from this pain. Swallowing thickly, she waited. The brute then fell to the ground beside him from the loss of blood and the arrow piercing his brain. 

The archer reached out towards Kyriana, "Madame, please tak' me haem." She looked behind her and realized he was, in fact, talking to her.

"You can see me?" She couldn't help herself as she approached his weak body, looking at the hand he offered her. Against all of her reason, she took his hand to soothe him and felt a spark of a thousand bolts run through her body. She gasped and met his eyes as he sputtered blood from his mouth and fell to the ground, his life leaving his body as he died. His soul left him and took in the sight of his corpse. 

"Are you a warrior?" Kyriana asked, seeing him turn to face her. 

"Aye, a warriur tae mah coontry an' man haem. Ah seem tae be deid noo, lass. Are ye an angel?" 

"Nay, I am not. But I need you to come with me. You have shown great honor and courage today." He stepped closer to her, his corporal form taking hold. It was her powers taking his soul and claiming it. He studied her and met her eyes. Instantly, she felt nervous and looked away from him. 

"Ye are te most beautiful secht I've seen." 

Ignoring his words, she opened the large locket around her neck to reveal a swirling blue mist. His soul began to vanish as it was sucked into her necklace for transport to Valhalla. When she turned, Dyah, one of her sisters, was retrieving the soul of the brute man. "You always pick the weak ones. Odin will love this warrior." She smirked proudly and vanished. Kyriana rolled her eyes and turned to vanish herself from the fields drenched in blood, sweat and tears. Appearing next to Gyllir, she clasped the locket in her palm and brushed her thumb over the engraved symbol. It was a raven, her symbol. Due to her ebony hair and green eyes, being the only one of her kind and Odin's daughter, they referred to her as raven-esque. 

"Oh, Gyllir. Something's changed...." She said softly, mounting the horse before reluctantly returning to Valhalla. When she touched him, something within her was lit and she had an ominious feeling as to what that could be.


End file.
